Warning: Future Ahead
by Dudly
Summary: Hyoutei was a great place to become a school counsellor. Not.


I tried doing it all present tense, from an adult!OC point of view. It's less than a thousand words, surely you can read it fast. And, by the way, Atobe doesn't belong to me, nor does Hyoutei or Ryoma.

x

**Warning: Future Ahead**

x

Makoto Shou has a busy schedule to keep, high expectations to meet and paths to trace. This is the tiring life of a Hyoutei counsellor. At first, the idea holds many promises: a safe, secure, comfy work in a prestigious school - plus, Hyoutei always means high salary. But the students?

They are the best students a school can hope to have. Academically excellent, well behaved, their parents offer money to the establishment every now and then. The principal loves every second of it.

Makoto-san has more trouble with his post and work charge.

His friends have always complimented him for his attentive ear and helpful advices. It surprises no one when he confirms his intent of guiding teenagers on the road of life. Hyoutei's students, they say, those will be delightful cases! Weren't they all envious, knowing he'd do something he loved, in the most gorgeous school with the elite of tomorrow's society?

If only they knew…

In their third year, all students are directed towards his office. They come, he gives them information- should they continue school? Should they find a job and become independent already? Which school is more fitting? Where should we be aiming in the long run? Such are the questions he needs to ask so answers could be provided.

He rarely has real troubles, but he had some. The most recent one is Atobe Keigo.

Atobe Keigo is a brilliant kid, succeeding extremely well in every subject taught and leading the whole tennis club with a single flick of the wrist. He could do anything he liked, where he wanted and with whomever he wished. Naturally, the first suggestion Makoto had offered was to take the succession of Atobe Corp.

Atobe had simply shaken his head to say no. He didn't want to be spending so many hours in an office, especially when the sun shone so graciously on the tennis courts. He could bear the constricting outfit, but not the lifestyle, not for a lifetime.

So Makoto had talked of progressing in tennis and do tournaments for a living. However, Atobe had rejected that too. Not enough security, too early retirement, too much judgement from lower beings.

Would Atobe-san like teaching tennis then? Apparently not. Be a celebrity? Try modeling? Study to become a doctor? How about lawyer? Enter the army?

Nothing stirred interest within the young grey-haired boy, who sat nonchalantly but with grace, his eyes slightly unfocused as he declined every proposition.

"Is there anything you would like to do?"

"I want to do the most appropriate thing. Try to tell me what that would be, commoner."

The counsellor had huffed, resenting that last comment. They then spent the remainder of the meeting doing personality tests and determining the many skills of an Atobe.

Makoto still grimaced when reminded of that lunch hour. Atobe was cleverly arrogant. Often he used condescending remarks, but smartly so he wouldn't be called disrespectful. Everything said that day had been jotted down and researched thoroughly. For the next meeting, which was a week after.

And Makoto has found the perfect job for the boy.

At least, that's what he claims aloud when the rich lad enters the small room again and plops down in front of his desk, in the same upper class manner he had the first time. He was wearing his sport polo, undoubtedly coming from tennis practice.

Makoto faintly wishes he could play tennis. But he doesn't say it. In fact, he doesn't add anything, just offers Atobe the result of his efforts. He conceals a smirk.

Atobe's eyes skim through the paper, eyebrows knitting in confusion at the long descriptions and explanations. Then, disbelief.

"How the hell did you come up with that?"

"You love to be outside, appreciate physical efforts, won't wear formal suits, like to see immediate results as well as having everything following your orders at a finger snaps. It seems like an interesting choice to consider."

Atobe twitches, anger lacing his words. "That option was ruled out hundreds of years ago, you incompetent man!"

"But it fits," he argues, trying his best to look serious and professional. Inwardly, he is amused. He's so seldom amused…

With very much glory, Atobe stands up and drops the document on the wooden desk. "Perhaps you should have done that instead. There is no way I will be a farmer."

There is the grand exit. Makoto draws in a sharp breath and exhales just as soon. He will have to find some solution if he didn't want complaints.

Better hurry up, too. After all, he has a busy schedule, high expectations and predictable paths to trace.

At least he got to see an Atobe huffing and puffing.

**x end x**

If you don't like shounen ai, or AtoRyo, don't read further (just push the ugly Review button =D)

**Royal omake for awinchan-**

"Can you even conceive a world where I'd be a farmer? I mean, obviously, that counsellor has a falsified diploma."

Ryoma smirked, amused at the new opportunity his boyfriend had at putting on a show.

"I kind of like the idea of you becoming a farmer," Ryoma said, his smirk broadening into a playful grin. "With the funny speech, sweaty shirtless chest, growing all kind of food..."

Atobe was suddenly very attentive. Ryoma paused and pondered.

"Think you could grow Ponta for me?"


End file.
